Innocence Lost
by hrhrionastar
Summary: Richard and Kahlan and their many children are busy living happily ever after. But when an old enemy resurfaces, will any of them be safe? Next gen fic.
1. Perils of Boredom

**Chapter 1: The Perils of Boredom**

"Mo-_oth_er, Michael Confessed a rabbit!" Reganath Rahl called out in the voice of older sisters everywhere.

Michael, a well-favored child of about three years old, scowled, and stuck out his tongue at Reganath.

"Tari, could you go see what Rega is shouting about?" Kahlan, Mother Confessor and Lady Rahl, shooed her second oldest daughter toward the sound of the conflict. She was reclining in a thickly woven hammock, and wasn't certain she would be able to get up without assistance.

She was pregnant again; this would be her tenth child with Richard.

Richard. Kahlan grinned to herself happily. The difficulties of her life as Lady Rahl, the many sacrifices she had made to reach this day—all were worth even a _moment _of her life with Richard.

Tari pouted, but rose gracefully from her position cross-legged on the ground, and marked her place in her book with a handful of pebbles. Kahlan smiled at her studious daughter, reminded of her own years learning statecraft from her father.

Kahlan shifted, uncomfortable suddenly. It didn't take her long to realize she was hungry. "Before you go, sweetheart, could you tell Berdine I'd like a snack?"

Kahlan felt guilty for being such a drain on the time and energy of those sworn to protect Richard. But she knew, as did they, that Richard would never forgive them if they neglected Kahlan and the baby. And, on her eighth pregnancy (Zeddie and Adie, Marilyn and Erilyn were twins), Kahlan felt deserving of a little pampering.

Besides, watching the children was a full time job, and Kahlan knew the Mord'Sith wanted her in the best condition possible, so they would be at less risk from so many young Confessors. In theory, they were all willing to die to protect Lord Rahl, and therefore to die to protect his recalcitrant children, but that was no reason to take chances.

She watched Tari walk purposefully toward Reganath and Michael, feasting her eyes on each mixture of her own and Richard's features.

Tari wore her dark hair long, and her fingers, always stained with ink, marked the scholar. She was fourteen years old. Reganath, twelve and named for Kahlan's long-deceased mother, had Kahlan's bright green eyes and Richard's fiery spirit. And Michael was as fair as Kahlan's sister Dennee, and as charming.

Kahlan moved carefully to a sitting position, one hand upon her stomach, and squinted at Tari's book. She was studying magic with Zedd, and had already shown a great deal of promise.

Kahlan's happy musings were interrupted by an angry cry from Michael. Tari picked him up and marched back to her mother, Rega following triumphantly.

"Is there a problem?" Kahlan asked calmly.

"Michael Confessed a rabbit," Tari said matter-of-factly.

"She _hit_ me!" Michael cried.

"You deserved it, you little twerp!" Rega said, scowling at her brother. "Mother's _told _you not to Confess poor defenseless animals," she said sternly, and added, as an afterthought, "or poor defenseless people, either."

With a sigh, Kahlan held out her arms for Michael. It really was a nuisance, the way male Confessors developed their powers almost immediately after their birth, while female Confessors rarely manifested before their early teens. She was more grateful than she could express that she and Richard had had five daughters before their first son, Zeddie, was born. There was nothing like five older sisters to keep even the most ambitious male Confessor in line. And Michael had _seven_.

"Let's talk, dear one," she told Michael. Something in her tone warned him he was in trouble, and he subsided into a sullen silence. Tari nodded firmly, and sat back down in front of her book.

Rega paced restlessly for a moment, and then said, "Mother, can I go over to the Meifferts'?"

Kahlan nodded. "Of course—but you and Gracie aren't to get too distracted and neglect Cara's boys; I know how you girls get!"

"Yes, Mother!" Rega called, already halfway across the clearing.

Kahlan smiled. The friendship between Rega and Gracie was of long standing; they were the same age, and seemed to get along very well. She only wished Rega got along so well with her own siblings.

Rega was spirited, yes, but also thoughtless. After the boys, and poor Dennee, with the weight of eldest-born and extraordinary beauty on her shoulders, Kahlan worried about Rega the most.

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Gracie Meiffert sat on the porch, swinging her feet and humming softly. Mother was off at some meeting with Lord Rahl, who insisted on being called Uncle Richard whenever the Meiffert children met him, and Father was busy commanding the army against the thieving Southerners, and Gracie was bored.

Her younger brothers, Richard, Tom, and Benjy, after their father, were playing pick-up sticks—Benjy, only three, kept upsetting the pile—and she, as the eldest, could not join in.

Or—she could have, but it would've distracted her, and Mother was adamant on the subject of distractions. If she wanted to guard Lord Rahl and keep the Midlands safe, when she was an adult, she must learn discipline.

If only discipline were more interesting.

Just for variety, Gracie ceased humming, and began to whistle.

Soon, she heard another voice joining with hers. Instantly, she stiffened; Mother would say this could be a threat.

She kept whistling the same tune, not wanting to alert the other voice. And she bent carefully, until she was lying on her stomach, and could more easily peer around the nearby trees.

Gracie saw the small, dark-haired figure of her friend, Reganath, and immediately relaxed.

"Hey, Golden Girl!" Rega called.

"Shadow! Is this a _legal _visit?" Gracie teased, referring to Rega's parents, and their absolute moral authority. Rega disliked anyone having authority over her, even her parents.

Rega laughed, though, clearly in a good mood. "Absolutely. You know me, Golden Girl: meek as a mouse!"

"Hello, hello, hello!" Tom waved frantically. Rega smiled, and ruffled his hair.

Gracie bounded off the porch and grabbed Rega's arm. "You're It!" she shrieked, and ran.

Rega, laughing, gave chase, her black witch-locks flying out behind her like a banner. Gracie laughed, too, but she was careful not to stray too far from her brothers. She took her responsibilities seriously—more seriously than Rega, at least.

Someday, Gracie was going to be as strong as her mother, and as kind as Lady Rahl, and as intelligent as her father, and as charming as Lord Rahl, and…

Unseen by the running girls, a slight figure darted from the side of the house and into the deeper shadows of the wooden porch. Waiting.

The moment came when Richie made a significant move with a stick, and Gracie, now It, raced after Rega onto the porch.

Quick as thought, the figure rose behind Rega and struck her, with scientifically determined force, on the back of the head. She crumpled, but before Gracie could do more than shriek, she too was knocked out cold.

Nonetheless, the figure cursed that shriek. Dragging both girls by an arm each, the figure raced around the house, away from the boys, who were running after their sister's scream, and threw the unconscious Rega and Gracie into a cart. The horse, swatting flies lazily, stretched its legs into a gallop when the figure dug spurs into its sides, and the cart rattled along behind.

Richie restrained Tom and Benjy, shaking his head. "We have to tell," he said seriously.

"Where Gracie?" Benjy complained.

"C'mon," Richie said shortly, and started walking. "Mother's at the meeting, in the throne room."

"What's she doing there?" Tom asked.

"We won't find out standing here," Richie said grimly, thinking. Now that Gracie was gone, he was the oldest, and so he was responsible. He had never felt so lonely in his life.

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Cara knew instantly something was wrong. She glanced at Richard, torn. This was an important meeting, and, although the Southerners were unlikely to jeopardize all possibility of a treaty, perhaps they wouldn't see Lord Rahl's death as such an obstacle to peace. Perhaps they would attempt assassination, knowing Richard's death would throw the Midlands into chaos.

Cara would _never_ let that happen. She had sworn it.

But those were _her sons_, Benjy asleep on Richie's shoulder, and Tom gazing around the throne room, curiously.

Cara had been taught never to show a weakness, but—she had a thought to spare for her sisters' carelessness, in allowing anyone, even Cara's beloved sons, to interrupt this meeting, before she touched Richard's shoulder, to let him know, and unobtrusively made her way to the door.

She picked up Tom automatically, to prevent him from further exploration, and raised her eyebrows at Richie—unspoken, the implication was that he had better have a good explanation for this.

Outside, Cara swept the area for Berdine and Alina, before remembering that Berdine was in attendance on Kahlan today, and Alina had gone with Dennee to a nearby village, for a christening. Was no one on guard?

"Well?" she asked.

"They took Gracie!" Richie cried. "And Rega—they took her, and I have no idea where—or what to do—so we came to find you!"

Cara didn't scream. She didn't faint. But she saw red.

Someone had dared to kidnap her daughter—she would kill them, kill them with her bare hands—

"Mother?" Tom asked. "What happened to Gracie and Rega?"

Cara strode back into the throne room, the mention of Rega a reminder that she was not the only person this news affected. Tom was still in her arms, and Richie followed her, preferring the possibility of knowledge to the comparative safety of the outside.

Richard took one look at Cara's face and leapt out of his chair. "I must postpone the rest of this meeting for another time," he said smoothly. "Please accept my most humble apologies."

"This delay does not reflect well upon the people of the Midlands," the leader of the Southerners said solemnly.

Richard bowed, but did not explain. He had a feeling that whatever made Cara look as though the many years he had known her had never happened was not for the ears of any but his most trusted friends.

Richard snapped his fingers, and Rikka and Nyda came forward at once. "Show our guests to their quarters—we will resume our discussions as soon as possible."

"Yes, Lord Rahl," they chorused, and Richard watched them escort the Southern delegation out. Only when he was alone with Cara and her sons did he relax.

"Well?" His voice was sharper than he intended. But Cara had interrupted important peace negotiations—he had specifically told everyone how crucial this was. Cara's own husband, Benjamin, was leading the troops against the Southern armies, who wanted to conquer the Midlands.

They had consented to meet with him, but Richard knew it would take some convincing to make them relinquish their imperialistic plans. They saw him as a mere minor lord, and they considered the people of the Midlands barbaric—even backward.

He had to convince them otherwise—or many more would suffer, starting with Kahlan and the children. He would never let that happen.

"Gracie and Rega have been kidnapped," Cara said coldly—and Richard's heart stopped.

It seemed an eternity before it beat again, and in that time he could feel the old rage swelling in him. He drew the Sword of Truth, and magical fire seemed to burn through the cold metal.

He had only one question. "_Where?"_


	2. Sisters of the Agiel

**Chapter 2: Sisters of the Agiel**

Gracie felt sick. She also felt as though she were moving. She forced herself to do no more than open her eyes a fraction.

The first thing she saw was dark hair. And with that, her memory came rushing back. She and Shadow, playing the Chasing Game. And then a dark figure in the corner of the porch…Gracie's eyes closed again in shame. She had neglected her duty to her brothers, to her parents, to herself. How could she have let herself get distracted like that?

Although it was odd that no adults had been nearby. She knew, of course, that today was an important day—Lord Rahl was supposed to be in peace negotiations all day, and Mother and the other women who guarded Lord Rahl were there, too, because everyone knew peace negotiations were always in constant threat of violence.

Still, it was unusual for there to be no one older than she and Shadow guarding the children. The Midlands were a dangerous place.

Nothing could mitigate her own responsibility, however. Gracie wanted to cry, not least because of the sickening ache of her head and limbs, where the motion of the cart jolted her.

She chanced a glance up, to verify that it was indeed a cart. Beside her, Rega stirred. Instantly, Gracie put a hand over her mouth, but it was too late: the figure ahead of them reined in the horse, and dismounted.

"So you're awake," the woman said, smiling darkly.

She looked about Mother's age, and Gracie noted with unconscious attention to detail her dark cloak and the glimmer of blonde hair beneath it. She carried a white oblong object, and Gracie squinted, trying to remember where she had seen a similar object lately…

"You're a Mord'Sith!" Rega gasped, in tones of deepest betrayal. Of course! Gracie felt a fool. Lord Rahl's sworn protectors, and his children's reluctant babysitters, were still known by that name. Berdine and Alina and Rikka and Nyda and…

Still, Gracie felt puzzled. She knew the white weapon was dangerous, of course—the Sisters of the Agiel, as they preferred to be called, always kept it out of the reach of children. But theirs were dark red or black, not white. And anyway, she had seen a similar weapon somewhere else, not among the Sisters—lying unattended on a shelf somewhere. But where?

Meanwhile, Rega was glaring at their attacker. "Return us to the palace at once!" she ordered.

The Mord'Sith laughed. "I think not, Princess. Are my sisters so tame, to run at the beck and call of the Seeker's get? If I didn't know it was impossible, I'd say they were all Confessed."

"What do you want?" Gracie asked, trying to distract their attacker's attention from Rega. "And who are you?"

"I am Denna," she said, "And what I want is the throne of D'Hara, the Midlands, Westland, and the Southlands. Just ultimate power, really; is that so much to ask?"

She didn't seem to expect an answer, but Rega gave her one anyway. "Yes!" she said, very hotly.

Denna laughed again, and added, "And you two are going to help me."

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"Watch over my boys," Cara said, looking at Kahlan. She felt sympathy for the other woman's pain, so like her own, but only from very far away. Almost all her mind was focused on the task ahead, laying it out in steps. Leave the boys somewhere safe…"And don't let any of them be Confessed."

"I won't," the Mother Confessor said. Her face was impassive—her Confessor face. "Just bring my Rega back to me."

Cara nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She turned abruptly, and Richard called after her, "Don't leave without me!"

"There's something I need to get," Cara called back, lengthening her stride. She didn't need to explain; let Richard track her when he and Kahlan had finished their lengthy farewells.

Cara knew Kahlan wanted to come with them, but it was too dangerous, both for her unborn child and for those left to look after the older children. Confessors were a risk, and only Kahlan could be trusted to keep them and those around them safe at a time like this.

Cara entered her empty home, and went directly to the fireplace. She removed a brick in the mantel—high enough that small children were unlikely to come across it—and pulled out her red leathers.

She hadn't worn her Mord-Sith uniform since she put aside her Agiels, when she and Benjamin decided they wanted children. Daily use of Agiels killed unborn children almost before they had the chance to grow, so Cara stopped using them.

It seemed logical not to wear her leathers, either. Without her Agiels, she barely counted as a Mord'Sith anyway.

Now, though—now she longed for the simplicity of physical pain. It was as nothing to what she felt.

As she pulled on her leathers, Cara was relieved that she still fit into them. Four pregnancies, not to mention how much easier it was guarding Richard when he more or less lived in the same place, and she was still thin.

She had just finished when Richard entered the room. "Ready?" he asked.

"One more thing," she said, running a hand through her blonde hair. It was too long, now, to leave it loose. She couldn't believe that she had been so careless as to grow it out, knowing it could be used as a weapon against her, or merely a distraction.

And yet, she reflected, perhaps she had been subconsciously anticipating the moment when she would return to what she had once been.

"Braid my hair for me?" she asked, turning slightly to look at Richard.

He raised his eyebrows. "The Mord'Sith braid?"

"If you can't do it—" she started to say, coolly.

He scowled. "Come here."

She obeyed, bending her head back so her hair rippled, in blonde waves. Richard touched her scalp, gently, and gathered her hair in a handful, on top of her head. Neither spoke.

At last, when Richard had nearly finished Cara's braid, he said mildly, "You could have had one of the Sisters do this, you know."

"It's meant to be done by someone close—a friend," Cara replied.

"We will find them," Richard said abruptly. He wanted to fret at the delay, but knew that Cara needed the support. Besides, comforting her distracted him from his own fears.

Cara wore her leathers like a costume, and her face was a mask as cold and impersonal as Kahlan's Confessor face. The braid was the last step; as his bodyguard, she had never had the opportunity to lose her fighting edge, but this was different. Now her transformation back into a Mord'Sith—the kind who never let emotion rule—was complete.

Well—almost. Cara reached up and pulled her Agiels from their dusty corner of a shelf. Richard watched her, but she didn't wince, or show any sign of the pain they had to be causing her.

She turned to him. "I—" and she looked down at her Agiels, unseeing. "I can't help thinking—that this is my fault."

"No," Richard said at once. "You couldn't have known—I thought I had someone on guard—" he added inconsequentially. When they returned—if they returned—he would have words with Berdine and the others.

"Not that," Cara said, still looking down. "It's my fault—because I don't deserve to be this happy—I don't deserve Benjamin, and I certainly don't deserve Gracie, or the boys. This is my punishment."

Richard smiled bitterly. "If so," he reminded her, gently, "you're not the only one being punished."

Cara nodded, face blank once again. She raised her Agiels, and in one smooth motion sheathed them at her waist. Then she waited for Richard to lead the way, as she always did, and fell into step behind him.

She didn't look back at the house: one way or another, when she returned, this would be over.


	3. Politics

**Chapter 3: Politics**

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" Gracie screamed. The pain was like nothing she had ever experienced. She wanted to curl up in a ball on the ground, and sink through the earth until there was nothing left. She wanted to die.

Abruptly, the pain was gone. Gracie didn't move, not wanting to give Denna the satisfaction of watching her fall over, and wishing she could faint.

"Hmmm," Denna said thoughtfully. "It appears you will be hard to break. So much the better: you will be an excellent Mord'Sith."

Rega, seated perforce on the ground beside Gracie, hands and feet bound cruelly, scowled. "Never!" she said defiantly.

"And you, Princess," Denna said, touching her white Agiel to Rega's shoulder, "will be my servant. When I have broken a Confessor Rahl, there will be no armies we cannot vanquish! Including your pathetic parents, and their army of brats." She spat on the ground, and clutched her agiel in both hands. "When I break you," she said, leaning closer to Rega, so that her breath shifted Shadow's dark hair, "you will kill them all."

Rega looked pale, but she shouted, "Never! I'll die first!"

Denna laughed. "Oh, you'll die, Princess; when I choose. And then again. And again. However many times it takes."

"You won't get away with this," Gracie said shakily. "That's Lord Rahl's daughter. Lord Rahl! He commands everyone in the Midlands, and D'Hara! He'll leave no stone unturned to find Rega—your plan will never work!"

"Of course, dear Richard will find us," Denna purred. "And when he does, your Princess Rega here will kill him. And then we'll find the Mother Confessor, and kill her."

Rega struggled uselessly against her bonds. "How can you be like this?" she demanded. "You're a Mord'Sith—you're supposed to be loyal to Lord Rahl!"

Denna shrugged. "There's no rule about which Rahl to serve; Cara proved that. Besides, Richard isn't the real Lord Rahl—he doesn't have the strength for it. Your mother Confessed him, years ago," she told Rega. "It's the only reason he would have stayed with her so long. Oh, she pretends to be all self-righteous; but Kahlan Amnell is the real ruler of the Midlands and D'Hara. She planned the entire thing, of course; the death of the real Lord Rahl, Richard's ascension…He's so besotted with her he doesn't see that she's just using him. What she did to make Cara forget all her training I'll never know." Denna's eyes shone. "The Mother Confessor is a worthy opponent."

"That's not true!" Rega protested. "My father isn't Confessed! And my mother would never do something like that!"

Denna shrugged gracefully. "Your father is a fool, and your mother is a conniving witch who plots to control every aspect of life in the Midlands! She wants power. Of course, so do I," she added, applying her agiel to Rega again.

Gracie's thoughts raced. She didn't believe Denna's conspiracy theory about Aunt Kahlan for a moment. But supposing the Mord'Sith would able to make Rega murder her parents? Surely it was impossible—Rega's screams echoed in Gracie's ears, and she carefully bent her fingers to the ropes binding them. If only she and Shadow could get loose—

One thing was certain. Gracie Meiffert wasn't going down without a fight.

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"I came as soon as I heard," Zedd said softly.

Kahlan glanced up at him. "Who told you?" she asked. She was still seated in her hammock, watching the children, but Dennee had returned from the town, and she knew she could leave the younger children in her eldest daughter's care without watching every second.

Still, she would let none of them out of her sight until Richard and Cara returned with the girls. She and Zedd compromised by speaking in low voices.

"Shota," Zedd said shortly, and Kahlan scowled.

"What did she want?"

"To warn us against an old enemy. Also something about a Shadow…"

"Shadow people?" Kahlan breathed, terrified. "You don't think—"

"I don't know," Zedd said seriously. He leaned against one of the trees to which her hammock was attached, and looked out at the children, now sitting in a rough circle, while Tari told them a story. "I just don't know."

"Zedd—" Kahlan asked. "Would you—go after them? I know Richard and Cara can do whatever is necessary—but, an old enemy—I would feel better if you went."

"What of you and the children?" Zedd objected.

Kahlan smiled. "The elder girls will help me. I only hope this old enemy underestimates us."

"Very well," Zedd agreed. "But promise you will allow the Mord'Sith to help you guard the children—I don't like the idea of leaving you here. What if this is a trap?"

"Steal the children, get all the adults to come and rescue them, and take over the palace?" Kahlan suggested wryly. "I'll be on my guard."

"Take care, dear one," Zedd said, putting a hand on Kahlan's shoulder briefly.

Kahlan nodded, and said a silent, quick prayer to the Creator for the safety of her daughter, Reganath, and for Cara's daughter, Gracie.

She looked at the other children with unseeing eyes, unable to imagine losing any of them—and wished, fervently, that she could have gone with Richard. This "old enemy" dared to kidnap her child?

She felt the stirrings of the Con Dar, as from far away, and fought to control her feelings. The children were depending upon her. Richard was depending upon her. She had to stay strong—for all their sakes.

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"As you can see, Lord Rahl won't be a problem," Denna hissed, gesturing toward the girls.

"Do we have your word that Lord Rahl will be assassinated?" The man's voice was measured, precise—the accent caught at Gracie's ears, even from across the clearing. He was a Southerner.

The ramifications darted through her mind, nearly paralyzing her with fear—obviously the peace negotiations were merely a ploy to gain greater access to the palace, and to Lord Rahl. He had to be warned—he still believed he could make peace with these people!

Gracie felt horrified, and far more betrayed than she had been by the fact that Denna, a Mord'Sith, could kidnap and torture two young girls. Denna was only one person, after all, and clearly insane—these things happened.

But the Southerners—desperately, she sent a quick prayer to the Creator that her father, leading the armies against the Southland, would be all right.

Then, not wanting to waste a moment while Denna was distracted, Gracie leaned her bound hands against the rough bark of the tree behind her and Rega, and patiently set to work, just as her father had taught her.

"Gracie?" Rega asked, in a whisper. "You don't think…what she said about my parents…"

"No," said Gracie shortly.

"But," Rega said slowly, "it's true Father would do anything for Mother, and nearly everyone saves time by asking her for their commands, and I've never understood what exactly happened before Dennee was born, and most Confessors don't get married like normal people, and what if…"

"What if your mother wanted ultimate power?" Gracie muttered back, straining against the ropes. "Well, to begin with, she could've Confessed everyone she met, like in that story Zedd tells, about the prince—and, if she wanted the legitimacy of the Rahl bloodline, she could've married Darken Rahl—who was already in control of the Midlands. Besides," she added, giving one final twist to her wrists, which hurt dreadfully, "you can ask them yourself, once we get back."

"Oh," said Rega. She didn't mention how little likelihood there was that they would be able to escape, for which reticence Gracie could only be grateful.

Carefully, with no sudden movements, Gracie eased her hands out of the frayed bits of rope, and shifted slightly, so her back was to Denna.

"Thank the Creator!" Rega whispered, when she saw Gracie start to untie her bound hands.

"So," Gracie said, as she worked, "Here's the plan…"


	4. Confession

**Chapter 4: Confession**

Denna concluded her argument with the Southerners. If only they weren't so insolent—she was a Mord'Sith, not some sniveling little cry-Seeker. And if the others had forgotten what that name meant, she had not.

It meant pain. Experiencing it, causing it—living it. The individual Lord Rahl hardly mattered—as long as there was one, the Mord'Sith would rule.

Unless they allowed them themselves to be turned into sweet little Mord'kittens as soon as Richard told them a few sob stories.

Denna could do better than that.

She smiled contemptuously at the Southerners. She didn't really need them—a Mord'Sith needed no one—but they had proved useful, distracting Richard, encouraging him to summon as many guards and advisors as possible with their inane customs, providing the cart…Now they would guard her, so she could concentrate all her attention on the two sweet little girls—the dark one, Richard's, with the same stubborn tongue and fiery temper, and the blonde, Cara's daughter.

If Cara were a proper Mord'Sith, Denna thought, she would thank her Sister for training the little girl.

Denna smiled at the leader of the Southerners. "Our alliance promises to be most rewarding, Captain," she said sweetly. "For both of us." Of course, when he had served her purpose, she would kill him, but there was no need to mention that.

The Southerners believed her when she swore fealty to them, in return for their help in kidnapping the girls. They believed, once Richard was deposed, she would allow them to rule the Midlands, or else prove weak opposition, since she was a mere woman.

Denna almost laughed at the thought of their inevitable consternation.

"Ma'am," the Captain said, respectfully, and he and his men withdrew, out of sight.

Denna turned back to her captives. They looked somewhat the worse for wear, of course—Cara's little girl's blonde hair lay in tangled, matted waves down her back; there were bruises on her jaw and collarbone, and more where her clothes covered them. The dark one looked similarly battered; her dress was torn at the collar, and her bloody shoulder was bared. In her eyes there was still defiance, however.

That defiance irritated Denna. It reminded her of Richard. She stepped forward, brought her agiel up—

And, for one bizarre moment, she was paralyzed with astonishment: the blonde girl had snatched away her agiel! She was running for the trees, screaming, "Ow, ow, ow, ow," with every step.

Denna stared after her, wondering about the way Mord'Sith abilities might transfer from mother to daughter, and also what had become of the girl's bonds; her amazement lasted only for a second, and she reached for her second agiel.

No Mord'Sith would travel with just one agiel; in fact, in the days when Denna had been the favorite of Lord Rahl, she had possessed several sets: red, black, white…

When she turned to glance down at Richard's daughter, she looked straight into fierce green eyes, and felt the hand close around her throat.

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Mind alert, Richard scanned the ground. He could not allow anger or fear to overwhelm him. His senses, his wits, must be at their best, or he might never find Rega and Gracie. And he had to. He just had to.

"Richard!" Cara cried, and he heard the sharp thwang of her agiels against metal.

Looking up, he drew his sword—and not a moment too soon. In spite of his alertness, he had been watching the ground, not the dark woods.

He and Cara were surrounded.

Instinctively, Richard moved so that his back was to Cara's, his sword tracing a fiery arc in the air around him. It did not take Richard long to recognize the guards of the Southern ambassador. Why they were attacking him—and the inevitable diplomatic crisis this would cause—seemed matters far removed from him. All he knew was that they were an obstacle in the way of his reaching his daughter—as such, they must be removed.

Richard saw fire, and at first he thought the sword of truth was simply echoing his mood—but then he caught a glimpse of his oldest friend, Zedd. If his daughter's life were not in the balance, he would have grinned; it felt good to be fighting beside Cara and Zedd again.

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"I feel this…sense of purpose—it's beautiful," Denna said, falling to her knees on the ground.

Rega sank down on the ground, too, and pulled at the knotted rope around her feet. She watched Denna warily, like a mouse would a cat who had suddenly bit its own tail, rather than attack.

"I must tell the truth!" Denna cried, face contorting, as she threw herself at Rega's feet. Rega skipped back several steps and stood up.

"Why?" she asked curiously. She didn't know anyone with a greater regard for the truth than her own parents, but even they didn't go around shouting about it all the time.

"I lied," Denna said, face ashen now. "I know that Richard loves the Mother Confessor—I tortured him myself, for days, and he never broke. I know he was thinking of her. I killed his mother!" She looked near tears. "I was using her as a hostage, to convince Richard to give me the Boxes of Orden! I said I could give her the Breath of Life, but I knew it was too late!"

Rega shivered, wishing she could get away, but kept where she stood by a horrified fascination.

"I killed Richard!" Denna was crying now, but still she stared up at Rega, as though willing her to understand; to forgive?

Rega wanted to shout that she knew that for a lie, that if her father was dead Denna would never have threatened to make Rega kill him, that it couldn't be true, she would know—

She watched, paralyzed.

"I put the spirit of General Grix in his body! I thought I could control D'Hara! And when the Mother Confessor murdered him and saved his life, I ran, and I kidnapped the wizard! I thought I could make a new life, at the expense of Richard's!"

Rega stared. Mother would never murder Father—and did she save his life after, or before?

"And the worst part," Denna said, eyes dilated, fingers raking the ground, "is—I loved him. I've always loved him." She stared into Rega's eyes, and this time, her voice was calm. "I love Richard," she said, and collapsed.

Rega didn't move. She wasn't sure she remembered how.


	5. Reunions

**Chapter 5: Reunions**

"Ow, ow, ow," Gracie sang to herself, trying to distract her mind from the pain. When she was a good distance from the clearing, and away from the Southerners—if they had tried to stop her, she wasn't sure what she would have done, but they seemed distracted (she had caught a brief glimpse of fire among the trees)—her fingers tightened on the agiel, and pain raced through her. Nonetheless, she wound up, and threw the thing as far as she could away from her, and away from Denna.

She stood for a moment, enjoying the release from the pain.

Then reaction set in. She collapsed on the ground, curled up in a ball, fingers clasped around her knees, and moaned. Her whole body shook, completely out of her control.

Gracie wasn't sure how long she stayed like that. At last, the shivers stopped, and, gingerly, she rose to her feet.

She picked up a stick, as a precautionary measure, and headed back toward the clearing.

She knew, if the plan hadn't worked, she was undoubtedly walking toward capture and more pain, but she couldn't leave Rega.

She stalked forward, too exhausted to hurry. Her eyes gleamed, and she held the stick firmly, in the same hand with which she had carried the agiel. She didn't notice the pain of twigs and bits of bark pressing into the swollen flesh of her palm.

At last, she emerged into the clearing. She passed several dead Southerners on the way, but she ignored them.

Her eyes registered Denna on the ground, Rega staring at her with haunted eyes—and then—

r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r

It didn't take Richard, Zedd, and Cara long to vanquish the Southerners. When Richard had a chance to look around, he didn't waste it, but strode forward, Cara and Zedd falling into step behind him as a matter of course.

They entered the clearing together; Richard's eyes found Rega, and stopped looking for anything else. He knew he should be on guard for any threat, but he didn't care. He had found his daughter! She was alive! The relief was so intense that he thought he could vanquish any foe.

He strode forward and embraced his daughter, hugging her like he would never let her go.

r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r

Gracie saw her mother, and wanted to run forward; but she didn't have the strength. Instead, she smiled tremulously, and dropped the stick. Mother raced forward, and hugged her so tight Gracie thought her ribs might break. It hurt, but she didn't care.

"Thank the Spirits you're all right!" Gracie's mother, who was not a person much given to devout exclamations, exclaimed.

"I love you, Mother," Gracie said, pressing her face against her mother's.

"Are you all right?" her mother asked urgently.

Gracie shrugged, then winced. "I…is Shadow okay?"

"She's fine," Zedd said easily. But his mind was racing. Shadow…Shota had said Shadow would rein over the land. He and Kahlan had assumed she meant Shadow People. But supposing…? "That shoulder will need attention," he added, peering at Reganath.

She stood limply in Richard's arms, staring at the huddled form on the ground. It was Denna. Zedd recognized her. How she had survived this long bewildered him, but this was a minor problem. It was the look in Reganath's eyes that worried him. It was a cold, empty look—like trying to peer through windows that were not only shuttered, but boarded up.

"That's odd," Cara said lightly, only partially releasing Gracie. She straightened to her full height, but kept one protective arm around her daughter's shoulder. "I killed her." And she gestured to Denna.

"No," said Reganath, in a voice empty of emotion. "I did."

r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r r

Richard wasn't sure what to do. After Rega's announcement, there had been a rather strained silence. He believed that Rega had done the right thing, the only thing possible—but he knew she felt terrible, and he wished he knew how to take away her pain.

When Gracie had told the adults what Denna had done, Richard was even more disturbed. He didn't like the implications of Denna's alliance with the Southerners, but, more than that, he especially didn't like the way Rega strode beside Gracie and didn't say anything.

Talking while they walked was clearly the best way; the girls were anxious to return home, and Richard knew how worried Kahlan and the other children would be.

Still, it hurt him to see Gracie limping slightly. He had offered to carry her, but she refused.

"So I came back to get Shadow and go home," Gracie finished. Her face was set. She didn't look like a child of twelve.

"I'm so sorry," Cara said softly, reaching out and stroking Gracie's blonde hair. The gentle gesture would have seemed strange, in the days when Richard had first known Cara. "I didn't tell you about—people like Denna—because I didn't want you to see me that way."

"Mord'Sith aren't evil," Rega said, unexpectedly. Richard watched her. "She was just—confused."

Zedd raised his eyebrows at Richard, but didn't comment.

"How's your shoulder?" Richard asked Rega, quietly. "The aum leaves are working, right?" He knew they should be, but felt the need to check. He was just so thankful that Rega was all right—

Rega shrugged, winced, and said, "Fine."

Now she was watching Gracie. Rega was glad Gracie hadn't elaborated on all the things that could have gone wrong with the plan. At first, she hadn't thought it would work—she had never confessed anyone before. And she knew, if Father and Aunt Cara and old Zedd hadn't been there, it wouldn't have worked. The Southerners would have captured Gracie, and brought her agiel back to Denna.

Intellectually, she knew it had been the right thing to do. But, although Mother had told her, and all the children, not to confess anyone unless there was no other way, and especially not to confess any of the Mord'Sith, she had never mentioned why.

She, Reganath Rahl, was a murderer.

"Teach me," Gracie said abruptly, to her mother.

"Teach you what?" Aunt Cara asked, lightly. Rega guessed she was thinking about returning home, and worrying about Uncle Benjamin, fighting against the Southerners.

Rega thought she knew what Gracie was asking. She wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"Teach me to fight, to withstand the agiel, to braid my hair, to be a Mord'Sith," Gracie explained, as though it were obvious.

A smile tugged at the corners of Rega's mouth. Gracie couldn't leave the change in her mother's hairstyle alone.

"_What?"_ Aunt Cara said. Belatedly, Rega realized Father and old Zedd were watching Gracie in horror, too.

"Think about it?" Gracie suggested. Then she sped up, grabbed Rega's arm, and said, "Race you home, Shadow!"


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue: So You Want to be a Mord'Kitten…**

"Think they're talking about you, or the Southerners?" Rega whispered.

Gracie didn't look away from the figures of her mother, Lord and Lady Rahl, and the old wizard. "Both, I expect," she murmured back. "They've thrown the Ambassador in the dungeon—something about dip-lo-mat-ic immunity…"

"Why do you want to be a Mord'Sith, anyway?" Rega asked, looking at Gracie. "You've said yourself, that hair is really not practical."

Gracie knew her friend was trying to make light of the situation. Most people would condemn her immediately—a request to join the Sisters of the Agiel was so rare that even the other Mord'Sith eyed her askance, since Denna. They probably thought she was possessed.

Besides, the general assumption was that Lord Rahl, although willing to accept the service of the current Mord'Sith, would disapprove greatly of creating any more. If he allowed this, the Southerners wouldn't be the only ones calling him a barbarian.

Gracie shrugged, trying to think of a flippant response. She couldn't very well explain how being at Denna's nonexistent mercy had made her feel—her need to stop that from ever happening again. "I..." she said, hesitantly. Then she looked at Shadow, willing her to understand. "I don't want to be helpless," she said. "I need to be as strong as I can—to fight back. You—and the rest of your family—it's different. You're already a living weapon."

Rega shuddered. "I would give anything not to have my power," she whispered.

Gracie glared at her. "Snap out of it, Shadow," she said sternly. "If it weren't for your power, we'd both be dead—or worse. You're strong; get used to it."

Rega smiled tremulously. "I'm not the strong one, Golden Girl." She looked back at where Aunt Cara, Mother, Father, and Zedd spoke in hushed tones. No doubt they discussed politics, treaties, wars, prophecies…and Gracie. Who, Rega knew, was going to get her way. She always did. "You are."


End file.
